nebula
by xfucktheglasses
Summary: Pestilence: I ate his heart and swallowed his brain. If you don't love me back, I'll do it again. —Ino.


****Basically, I am on a roll. With that, this is a first of FIVE pieces and is inspired by my obsession with Supernatural. Changed some stuff to make it my own and you know what, I really don't care if it's wrong or anything like that because I had fun writing it. c:

This goes out to Paige and Chloe~

**ηєвυℓα**

The clank of her heels echoed along the empty hallway.

Clank.

Clank.

Clank.

Her eyes were unblinking, staring straight ahead—at nothing in particular. There was a small tilt to her red lips; a smirk as she tried to contain her excitement, and with every even step she took, her necklace tapped against the hollow of her throat. There was a thrill running up and down her spine, giving her tingling sensation at the sheer idea that with every step—clank, clank, clank—the bedroom was getting far, far closer.

Of course…

She could always just go out of order, but _oh_, how she'd love to start from there; the love that this man was filled with…

It made her want to tear them all apart.

A grunt went up her throat, gray blue eyes rolling skywards.

Love—as if anything like that _really_ existed.

She paused, red heels clanking together, a hand at her hips and long white-blond hair swaying behind her. She turned to the right, tilting her head to the side as she stared at her patient through the small window. He almost looked adorable, sound asleep without any worry crinkles creasing his face.

Such an adorable young man, he was.

She curled a hand around the knob and opened the door, stepping inside and almost gliding to his bedside. She hovered above him, long red nails feathering his cheekbones. And she watched him stir out of his sleep, thick brows furrowing and lips tilting downwards in an unappreciative manner.

"Shhh," she cooed, taking a seat at the very edge of the bed. "It's alright, baby."

His eyes snapped open and he stared at her with surprised filling him up like a lifeline. "Ah, Miss—miss—"

"Shhh," she repeated, brushing his hair back with her hand. A smile overtook her lips, eyes gleaming. "How are you feeling, love?"

"I—I—" he sneezed, and sneezed, and sneezed again. "I—"

"Mmm, yes, I know."

"Wha—what's wro—ng with me…?"

She sighed, crossing a leg over the other. She flipped some of her hair over her shoulder and spared him a glance from the corner of her eye. "Nothing much, love, your tumor was taken out but you've surprisingly gotten the common cold as well as a bad case of Spanish Influenza."

"Spanish," he heaved, "Spanish Influenza….?!"

"Mmm, yes," she stood up, hovering above him as she bent over to place a chaste kiss on his forehead. "Ooh, look at that."

She watched as his eyes began to roll out of focus, rolling back as his eyelids drooped. His breathing was erratic, chest rising and falling almost uncontrollably and, god, the way he was sweating with that fever.

"Goodnight, sweet baby."

He was dead before she turned her back on him.

.

.

.

Everything is a quiet buzz—unattractive and filled with sweat and musk.

She sighs as she stands at the top of a building, arms crossed in front of her chest and hair whipping around, behind her. Everything got boring far too quick—quicker than the last city she was in; these foolish idiots were so goddamn _weak_, it sickened her.

"There isn't any fun, when no one wants to play fair and square."

She waved a hand in the air, lifted the arm up high and curled her fingers into a fist.

The air got dry.

.

.

.

The next day, she was in an entirely different town.

.

.

.

Within the next few days, she is working in a mental facility.

Oh, so much to do in such a place—the sight of someone standing and reaching for something that is not there made her nerves curl into themselves before extending and filling up with adrenaline and fascination. She never tried to have fun in a nuthouse; this could be _entertaining_.

"Sai, sweetie," she placed a hand on his shoulder and looked into his empty dark eyes. Such a pretty one, he was. "Time for counseling."

He stared at her for a second, black hair shadowing his eyes. He looked like an empty vessel, almost—and she would have loved to keep him, if she could. A smile appeared on her lips as he stood up, she followed him out of the rec room, leading him into the halls.

.

.

.

"Sai's dead."

She looked up, brow furrowed with practice and ease. "Oh no… That—I… I…"

The nurse that spoke to her stared at her with hollow green eyes, lips pressed into a thin line. She tried to reach over—and here, she grew excited—but refrained, dropping her hand onto the table in the nurses' lunch room and deciding to solemnly look away.

"I'm sorry, Ino," she said, softly, "I know you took care of him for the last week and a half… It's not your fault."

Of course it was, Ino said to herself as she fingered her necklace.

"I… Yes, but I—god, I can't help but feel guilty," she said aloud, practiced tears welling up at the corner of her eyes. She took a deep breath and made a show of wiping them away, sniffing and clearing her throat. "Thank you, Sakura—I wouldn't have wanted to get this news from anyone else."

She lifted her blue eyes and caught Sakura staring at her with sadness covering an unreadable expression.

Ino stood, then, and left.

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Cat calls followed her as she walked down the alley that led to her apartment.

She could hear their footsteps following her—something like a threat curling in the air, and she'd be afraid… Oh, she'd be afraid, if she didn't carry the arsenal to destroy the entire world right at her fingertips. She'd be afraid if the single entity that drove her wild wasn't always coated in blood, and had the mad eyes of a soldier ready to kill without remorse. But these fools… they knew nothing of what they were doing. So Ino walked, hair swinging from side to side, behind her, heels clanking against the concrete, nurse skirt swishing with every step.

When they drew closer, Ino grew exasperated.

She turned her head and watched them from over her shoulders; had her brothers and her sister been there, they would have caused them to kill each other, rise from the dead and then eat each other to the very marrow of their bones.

She sighed, rolling her eyes upwards. "Oh please, boys," she murmured, "Put on a leash."

Ino snapped her fingers and they dropped to the ground, coughing blood and deadly warts prickling their skins.

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.

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She was pressed against a wall, her back arching as he left kisses on her chest. Ino had her eyes closed, a smile on her lips as she breathed heavily.

He pulled away and began to have a cough attack, then. They were loud and wet and pretty serious—serious enough for him to pull away, set her down on the ground and fall back onto the edge of the bed. He covered his mouth with the crook of his elbow, coughing and coughing, eyes closed and body swaying from one side to the other.

"Oh," Ino whispered, bending over to grab her bra. "You have a cold, again, baby?"

He grunted, frame wracking as he continued to cough. Ino turned away, fixing the straps of her bra, and leaving the room. "Let me get you a glass of water—that common cold is everywhere, hm? The whole town seems to be catching it!"

When she returned, he was sprawled on the bed, no coughing and no sound. She leaned against the doorframe of her bedroom and sighed, bringing the glass of water to her lips and taking a sip. She was smiling, an eyebrow raised as she watched the dead body with minor interest. He wouldn't have been happy with her, anyway—none of them would. Not if they didn't have the ability to put up with the virus that coated her flesh like cells.

She sighed. "Another one bites the dust."

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Ino was not caught until she had killed over half of the country.

She walked down an abandoned road, clad in a white dress, the straps placed on her forearms and the thin material of the skirt dancing against the wind. Her pale blond hair was up and her blue eyes were fierce and filled with malevolence as she lifted her arms up, poised as if she were to be holding a bow. Her right wrist shifts, flicks to the side as her fore and middle finger pull on an invisible string.

A bright light appeared around her hands and it formed a bow and arrow, the arrow black and foul and promising death.

Ino smiled, cruel and twisted and pulled the string back as far as she could, packing the bow with all the disease she could muster and—

"Pestilence."

Her being went cold and rigid. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing down almost menacingly. She turned around, pointing her weapon at the man that manifested before her, a sneer on her pretty lips. "You have some nerve to come after _me_, War. Let me finish my job in peace—I'll deal with you later."

His fiery red hair fell over threatening teal-green eyes, his lips set into a deep frown. He is clad in a red button-down shirt and dark slacks and around him was his infamous sword. One that everyone feared and Ino despised. "Your insolence and pride is ruining the entire plan. I was sent to stop you."

"Your bloodshed won't do anything to me," She hissed, lowering her hands and allowing her bow to disappear. Their eyes connected and Ino fought the urge to rip him to shreds, destroy her brother and her lover all in one because this was all his fault—her arrogance and anger and dishonor to their Master.

It was because of _him_.

"The apocalypse," he said, calmly, "Is not due for another six months and you have already destroyed more than enough. Come, let us go back, Pestilence. Gather your strength and—"

"Don't placate me," she growled. "Don't. I will stop but I will _not_ return with you." She disappeared and reappeared mere inches in front of him, placing her nails where his un-beating heart was, digging into his skin and locking her eyes with his. "I will eat your heart. I will swallow your brain. And if you refuse to love me back, I will do it all again."

And she vanished.

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Please review! c:


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